


Knifeplay

by cherylwoo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherylwoo/pseuds/cherylwoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sick and tired of Francis making advances on him, Yao asks Arthur to mark him as a signal of claiming him. What does Arthur mark Yao with? What mark does he make? And how does he deal with it? Rated for blood. England/China, Iceland/Hong Kong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knifeplay

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me - just transferring my fics from Fanfiction.net to Archive of Our Own. Hello, I’m back with fic! I was going to write another lemon, but decided against it (due to most of my lemon-y ideas being more or less the same) :P Unbeta-ed, but do read anyway.

The scene of the side-walk zoomed past Arthur as he drove through the road leading to Yao’s house. He wasn’t paying attention – he almost ran over a dog crossing the road, and when the dog barked angrily at him, Arthur merely waved his hand half-apologetically at it and drove on, still lost in his thoughts.

Tonight was the night. The night that Arthur was going to claim and mark Yao.

The couple had been planning this for a while – Yao had been complaining about the lack of propriety of some of the nations (Francis, in particular), always molesting him when they had the chance.

When Yao had admonished Francis for it, he just shrugged and said, “You don’t belong to Arthur, so why can’t I stake my claim?”

Arthur had jokingly said, “Maybe I should mark you as mine.” At once, Yao had perked up, and agreed.

Arthur was shocked by Yao’s reply. “Are you serious?”

Yao nodded eagerly. “Yes,” he replied. “Why not, aru? If it’ll stop Francis’ advances, I don’t see the harm in it. It has to be permanent, too…” he said thoughtfully.

Arthur snickered. “I could tattoo ‘MINE’ on your forehead,” he jokingly said. “It’s obvious that way, and Francis will get the message.”

Yao smacked Arthur on his upper-hand. “I’m not walking around with the letters M-I-N-E on my forehead!” Yao retorted. “I’d be the laughingstock, aru!” he added.

“Hey, a tattoo is permanent enough!” Arthur replied, wrapping his arms around Yao and kissing his forehead.

“No, a tattoo can be removed,” Yao said as he leaned into Arthur’s embrace. “There’s laser technology these days…” He looked pensive.

“You don’t need a mark to tell everyone you’re mine, you know,” Arthur murmured into Yao’s ear. That caused the Asian man to shiver delightfully. “How ‘bout I show you right now?” Arthur added teasingly.

“You pervert!” Yao pushed Arthur away lightly in indignation. “Hong Kong is in the next room, aru!”

Arthur chuckled and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know,” he replied, soothingly. “Just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“I know!” Yao exclaimed finally. “You can carve a mark onto my skin, aru – it’ll scar, and at least it’ll be permanent!”

Arthur almost choked on his own saliva. “What!?” he sputtered. “That’s going to hurt!”

“So?” Yao looked at him questioningly. “Tattooing also hurts – in case you hadn’t noticed, they use a needle for that!” he said. “I haven’t lived for 4000 years and not know what it feels like to hurt, aru. Besides, I can take it.”

Arthur gazed at his lover in wonderment. He had forgotten that Yao had been alive for far longer than he had due to his youthful exterior. “Are you sure?” he asked Yao.

Yao nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll give you three weeks to think of a symbol you’re going to carve on me – it has to represent you, aru,” he told Arthur. “And in three weeks, you’re going to do it.”

In all honesty, Arthur didn’t pay it much heed when Yao first mentioned it. But a week ago, Yao reminded him of the deed he was to do.

Arthur hadn’t put much thought onto what he was going to carve onto Yao and where he was going to carve it, too. He had thought that the decision to mark Yao was one made on a whim, and that Yao would forget it after a while. Apparently, he was wrong.

After a few days of thinking, Arthur decided he was going to carve the flag of England onto the side of Yao’s stomach.

This brings us back to Arthur’s current predicament. Could he do it? Could he injure Yao like that? His hand paused as he it wavered over the doorbell of Yao’s house. He could turn back and make an excuse as to not turning up that day. Should he?

Too late. The door swung open to reveal Hong Kong.

“Oh, you’re here!” Hong Kong said happily. “I’m just going out to buy the latest comic and pick up a friend,” he told the older man.

Arthur managed a warm smile at Hong Kong.

“Come in! Teacher is in the kitchen, preparing dinner,” Hong Kong informed Arthur. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some help,” he added with a conspiratory wink.

Arthur gulped as he took of his shoes to enter. “Okay,” he said in a small voice.

“See you later!” Hong Kong said as he bounded off.

Arthur quietly made his way to the kitchen. He glimpsed Yao working at the stove, tasting the soup he was boiling. Silently, Arthur stepped into the kitchen.

Yao was so engrossed in what he was doing; he did not notice the Caucasian man sneaking up behind him. When Arthur stealthily wrapped his arms around Yao’s waist, Yao gave a startled cry (“Aiyah!”) and the spoon he was holding clattered to the ground.

“Arthur!” Yao exclaimed and glared at the British man.

“Hello, beautiful,” Arthur greeted. He bent down to pick up the spoon Yao had dropped.

Yao blushed furiously at Arthur’s affectionate greeting. “Don’t say things like that in public, aru!” he whispered angrily.

“What public?” Arthur said innocently. “As far as I know, only you and I are here.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Okay, okay,” Arthur chuckled, turning on the tap to wash the spoon. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” Yao quickly replied. “You’re only going to spoil whatever I’ve done, aru. Besides, it’s almost ready – why don’t you wait outside? I’ll join you in a bit.”

Arthur nodded and exited the kitchen. He went into the living room and slumped onto the soft couch. If Yao was nervous about that night, he certainly didn’t show it. On the other hand, Arthur was scared out of his wits at what was going to transpire that night. Could he bring himself to actually mar Yao’s perfect skin? What if something went wrong and the wound was infected?

He grabbed a magazine from under the coffee table and flipped through it. He wasn’t paying any attention to the colourful images on the pages; he was too deep in thought.

After a few minutes, Yao came out from the kitchen. He spotted Arthur lounging on the couch and made his way to sit beside the Caucasian man.

“You’re done?” Arthur asked, as he curled his right hand around Yao’s waist.

Yao nodded. “Yes. I know it’s a bit too early, aru… but I was quite excited – Hong is bringing his boyfriend home for dinner.”

“Oh, really?” Arthur sat up straighter at the mention of Hong Kong’s boyfriend. Come to think of it, Hong Kong did mention he was going to pick up a friend. “Who is he?”

Yao looked thoughtful. He was trying to remember the boy’s name, but after living for 4000 years, names tended to come and go, so he was very bad with names. “You know, that Nordic boy? The personification of Iceland, aru?”

“Emil?”

“Yeah, aru. I knew his name started with an ‘E’…” Yao muttered. “Apparently, Hong has been dating him for two months now, and I thought I should meet the boy.”

“As overprotective as usual,” Arthur murmured, kissing Yao lightly on the head.

“As his guardian, I have the right to know who Hong is seeing!” said Yao haughtily.

Arthur rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence, before Arthur decided to break the silence. “You nervous?”

“Hm?” Yao turned his head to look at Arthur. “About what?”

Unconsciously, Arthur’s hand wrapped itself tighter around Yao’s waist. “Tonight.”

“Dinner, aru?” If Yao was trying to be oblivious to Arthur’s nervousness, he was doing a damn good job at it.

“No,” Arthur replied. “About what’s going to happen AFTER dinner,” he said, placing emphasis on the word ‘after’.

“Oh.” Then realisation dawned upon Yao. “OH,” he said, turning his head back to face the wall. He then leaned his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “No,” he said simply. “Not really, aru. I trust you.”

Just like that? Yao trusted Arthur? Was he that easy to trust? After what he had done to Yao during the Opium Wars? He couldn’t get his mind off how he had the Asian nation drugged with opium until he could no longer function. The image of Yao’s devastated face as Arthur took Hong Kong away was still imprinted in Arthur’s mind. “You do?” Arthur asked in a small voice.

Yao sighed. He knew what Arthur was thinking – about their blood-stained past. He moved so that he was face to face with Arthur. “Arthur,” Yao began, looking deep into Arthur’s eyes. “That was in the past. I’ve forgiven you, aru,” he told the British man soothingly.

Arthur didn’t say anything. He knew he couldn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Yao on the lips.

When they broke apart, Yao looked at Arthur in concern. “Feeling better now?”

Arthur managed a grin. “Better,” he said, nodding.

At that moment, Hong Kong came in, followed by a young man with silver-white hair and a bed-head. “Teacher!” Hong Kong greeted loudly with a wide smile. “This is Emil,” he told Yao, who held out his hand to be shaken.

Nervously, Emil shook Yao’s hand.

“And,” Hong Kong turned his attention towards Arthur. “This is Arthur. He’s sort of like my father,” he told Emil. “Arthur, Emil.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Arthur to Emil, extending his own hand towards the young man.

Emil shook Arthur’s hand at that introduction. He didn’t dare speak in English due to his awkward accent, and especially not in front of the personification of England!

“Go to the dining hall, all of you, aru,” Yao instructed. “I’ll bring the dishes out.”

“I’ll help you,” Arthur offered.

Dinner was nothing out of the ordinary. Emil hardly said a word, due to his nervousness of speaking English in front of Arthur, and only replied when spoken to. When he replied, they were generally short, one-worded answers. But Yao completely understood – he had felt the same way when he had first met Arthur – he had been afraid that his English was not good enough for speaking with the Englishman.

After dinner, Hong Kong left with Emil for a movie date. “Don’t wait up for me,” he told Yao before leaving.

“Don’t be home too late, aru,” Yao countered.

“Yes, yes…” Hong Kong said exasperatedly, and left with his hand linked with Emil’s.

Arthur gazed longingly at the young couple as they disappeared into the night. “Do you remember what it’s like being that young?” he said aloud. Mostly to himself.

Yao had just brought the last of the plates into the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher when he exited the kitchen and heard Arthur’s lamenting. “Feeling like an old man, aru?” he chided.

Arthur’s head whipped around. He laughed. “Maybe.”

Yao sauntered towards Arthur and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck. “You ready?” he asked sultrily, looking up into Arthur’s green eyes.

Arthur let out a nervous giggle. “Not really, but if you are…” He bent down, placed one of his hands behind Yao’s thighs, placed the other hand at Yao’s back, and lifted the Asian man into his hands, bridal-style.

Not used to being carried that way, or being pampered for that matter, Yao’s face reddened and he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck tighter, burying his face into Arthur’s clavicle.

Arthur carried Yao to his bedroom, and gently placed the Asian man on his bed.

Yao smiled softly at Arthur and reached for the drawer in his bedside table. He pulled out a knife from it and gently placed it in Arthur’s hands.

Arthur’s hands shook slightly as he received the knife from Yao. “Do you have a candle around here?” he asked Yao. “And some alcohol?” he added as an afterthought.

Yao looked at him questioningly.

Arthur flushed and turned away. “To prevent any bacteria from entering the wound,” he stammered, scratching his head.

Yao laughed quietly. “Come here,” he said.

Arthur approached Yao, who kissed him lightly on the nose. “That’s so sweet of you, aru,” Yao told him. “There’s some alcohol in the bathroom, and as for a candle and matches… I think I have some around here,” Yao said as he made his way towards his wardrobe and rummaged into one of the drawers there.

As Arthur went to retrieve the alcohol, Yao found a candle and lit it.

When Arthur returned, Yao was sitting on his bed and looking at him expectantly. “What?” he asked.

“So where are you making your mark, aru?” Yao asked Arthur pleasantly.

Arthur fidgeted nervously. “I don’t know… I was thinking of the side of your stomach, but if that proves to be too painful…”

“It’s okay – do it,” replied Yao, smiling encouragingly at Arthur. In a fluid motion, Yao had removed his shirt, exposing his stomach to Arthur.

“O-okay,” said Arthur. He made his way towards Yao, and positioned him on the bed. He then took the knife and passed the blade through the flames of the candle. As he did that, with his other hand, he spread alcohol on Yao’s skin. “But I don’t want to be the one to ruin such smooth skin…”

Yao shivered as the alcohol came into contact with his epidermis. He scoffed in reply to what Arthur had said. “Trust me – Kiku has already seen to that, aru,” Yao said bitterly, gesturing to his back, where a thick scar had formed around an old but large gash wound.

Arthur reached out to touch the scar tissue gently. “I know, but I don’t want to be the one to add to that…”

Yao smiled at Arthur. “Don’t worry about me, aru,” he told the British man, as he ran his hand through Arthur’s blond locks. Yao watched Arthur move the knife back and forth through the candle’s flames. “Just out of curiosity, what symbol are you going to carve?” Yao asked after a pregnant pause.

“The English flag,” Arthur replied proudly, caressing Yao’s soft skin. Yao certainly had the softest skin…

Yao nodded and grinned, seemingly pleased with Arthur’s decision.

When Arthur decided that the blade was free of any bacteria, he removed it from the flame and approached Yao. “You ready?” he asked anxiously.

Yao nodded. He didn’t dare look at what Arthur was doing, and so had his gaze focused on the door.

As Arthur made the first incision, Yao couldn’t help but gasp at the pain that followed.

At Yao’s intake of breath, Arthur pulled his hand back. “I knew this was a bad idea,” he spluttered. “I’ve hurt you and…”

“No, it’s alright,” Yao interrupted him. “Go on, aru. Just ignore me.”

Arthur looked at Yao hesitantly. Nevertheless, he continued his work on Yao’s abdomen.

Yao watched Arthur’s handsome face, contorted in concentration, as he worked to perfect the art he was carving into Yao skin. Despite it hurting, Yao couldn’t help but feel turned on by what was happening – the man he loved was claiming him, was marking him as his own.

When Arthur was done, he was panting. He placed the bloody knife on the bedside table and paused to admire his work. The St. George’s cross stared back at him in blood red on Yao’s skin.

Arthur leaned forward and gave the wound a gentle lick, causing Yao to gasp in pain as well as in arousal. Arthur licked his lips at the coppery taste of blood. He knew that saliva was anti-bacterial, and that licking the wound would reduce the chance of an infection. Moreover, it also seemed to be an arousing gesture…

“How does it look?” Yao asked. He still daren’t look at the wound.

“Looks a bit disgusting, but once it heals, it’ll look beautiful. Come and see for yourself,” Arthur encouraged.

Yao turned his head and looked at the mark Arthur had carved into his flesh. Arthur was right – it did look disgusting. “Urgh,” Yao made a weak sound. “I can’t look at it anymore – bandages are in the second drawer of the bedside table, aru,” he told Arthur.

Arthur scrambled to retrieve the bandages. He placed cotton gauze over the mark he had made and taped it with surgical tape.

Yao leaned back into the bed. “Now let’s see Francis say that you haven’t claimed me,” he mumbled.

Gingerly, Arthur placed a hand on Yao’s chest and looked at the Asian man fondly. He lightly touched the cotton gauze covering the wound he had just made. “Does it still hurt?” he asked in concern.

Yao shook his head. “Not anymore, aru,” he replied with a small smile. He then grabbed Arthur’s collar and yanked the blonde towards him, kissing the daylights out of him.

Arthur was only too happy to oblige. However, when Yao deftly unbuttoned his shirt, signalling that he wanted more, Arthur managed to make a distressed sound. “You sure?” he asked Yao breathlessly.

Yao nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak, especially not when he was that turned on.

When Yao had fully unbuttoned Arthur’s shirt, Arthur shrugged it off and threw it to the ground. He resumed planting soft kisses all over Yao’s face, his hands running up and down Yao’s bare chest.

Yao was feeling hot all over – the combination of their previous activities and what Arthur was doing now was too much for him to handle. He reluctantly let out a soft, long moan.

“Horny already, aren’t we?” Arthur whispered good-naturedly. Hungrily, he brought his hand to fondle Yao’s crotch, which revealed an impressive bump.

Yao glared at Arthur through half-lidded eyes. “Shut up, aru,” he said as he covered his face with his hands.

Arthur smiled gently before pulling down Yao’s pants. Yao assisted him by lifting his hips. “I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you,” Arthur murmured into Yao’s ear.

Yao shivered delightfully at Arthur’s confession. “You're nothing short of my everything,” he replied breathlessly, as he lifted his head slightly to meet Arthur’s lips. “I love you with my whole heart, aru.”

“Mmm…” Arthur breathed in Yao’s scent. “I love how you smell,” he told Yao.

Yao growled softly, impatiently. “Just fuck me already!”

Arthur chuckled, and the two of them finally submitted to their own carnal desires.

* * *

Hong Kong quietly opened the door to his house and peeked in. It was 3a.m., and he was late – the one movie Emil and him supposed to watch turned out to be two movies. He would no doubt receive a scolding from Yao.

The house was silent, however, and there were no signs of life. Hong Kong tip-toed into the house and made his way upstairs.

Hong Kong glanced at the door to Yao’s room. Should he announce he was back? And get lectured? If Yao was still awake, Hong Kong might as well face the music right then and there…

Hong Kong silently opened the door to Yao’s room and looked in, ready to announce his return. However, Yao was fast asleep; the dim light of the night-lamp illuminated his prone body as he slumbered. Beside him, Arthur had his arms draped protectively over Yao. He was sound asleep as well. There was a blanket that looked like it was hastily draped over their bodies.

Hong Kong smirked to himself. It looked like Yao had been too busy to notice his absence and returning late. He could even pretend that he was back on time in the morning…

Hong Kong closed the door quietly and went back to his own room. He hoped that Emil and his relationship would reach the stage that Yao and Arthur’s relationship had – honest, beautiful, intimate, romantic, passionate…

He flopped onto his bed; he was too tired to even change out of his clothes. Hong Kong was fast asleep as soon as his head came into contact with the pillow.

* * *

Yao winced as he pulled out the cotton gauze covering his wound. He didn’t like fresh wounds and covering them because the dressing would stick to the wound and it would be difficult to remove the dressing and change it.

The mark Arthur had carved onto his flesh now didn’t look as disgusting as it did when Arthur had first made it. But it was still bleeding, and Yao couldn’t stand to look at blood for long periods of time, so the wound remained covered.

“How is it looking?” Arthur asked as he appeared from the kitchen, holding two mugs of tea.

“Still a bit bloody, aru,” Yao replied. He shifted his hips so that Arthur could have a look at the wound.

“It’s healing very well, I must say,” Arthur commented. “Thank God it’s not infected.” Arthur handed a mug of tea to Yao and placed his own on the coffee table. He then took the bottle of saline solution on the coffee table and dabbed some cotton with the solution. “Ready?” he asked Yao.

Yao nodded and looked away, grasping his hot mug of tea nervously. The sight of blood made him queasy, and seeing a wound being cleaned made him uncomfortable.

Gently, Arthur washed Yao’s wound with the cotton-dabbed solution. He then put some antiseptic onto it and covered it with cotton gauze, plastering it onto Yao’s skin with surgical tape.

“There, it’s done,” Arthur told Yao. He reached out to take his mug of tea, and sipped the brown liquid serenely.

Yao pulled his shirt down. “It should heal by the next meeting, aru,” he mused. “I wonder what Francis will say when he sees it…”

“Oh, flaunting it in front of him? I like that,” Arthur praised Yao playfully.

Yao eyed Arthur disdainfully. “No, just when he makes a move on me, aru.”

“Come on,” Arthur joked. “Show it to him! I’d like to see his face when he finds out I’ve made my mark on you.”

Yao huffed. “You know I don’t like to display myself in front of everyone.” He took a big gulp of his tea. After so many years of drinking tea, the heat receptors in his mouth had gotten used to the hot liquid and Yao could chug down large amounts of hot tea in a matter of seconds.

Arthur leaned forward and kissed Yao’s forehead affectionately. “That’s what I love about you,” he told the Asian man.

Yao blushed brightly, but remained silent.

* * *

The next world meeting was no different from the last – Alfred boasted about how he was going to save the world, Kiku generally agreed with him while Ludwig seethed in the background, Feliciano was not paying attention…

Yao sighed in exasperation at his fellow nations’ antics, and rested his head on his hand. He silently wondered how the world was going to turn out in a few years’ time.

Yao sat straight up when he felt a hand gently brush his backside. He quickly grabbed the offending appendage and glared at its owner, who was sitting beside him.

Francis was smirking at Yao.

“Could you kindly keep your hands to yourself, aru?” Yao hissed softly as he glared sideways at Francis.

Francis shrugged and turned his attention back to the meeting.

All was well until Alfred decided to break for a snack. The rest of the nations left the room, some to grab a coffee, some to get some fresh air, some just to fool around…

Yao decided to stay behind as he had no reason to leave the room. He looked at his lover, who seemed to be in a heated discussion with Kiku on the states of their island countries.

Francis sashayed over to Yao and placed his arm over Yao’s shoulder.

“Yes, Francis?” Yao said through gritted teeth.

“Why are you so cold towards me?” Francis asked in mock-aggrievement. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Yes, we are friends, aru,” Yao said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh,” Francis swooned. “Mon cher, but how can I let a beauty such as yourself be alone on such a fine day?  See?” Francis said, pointing to Arthur. “Arthur’s off talking to Kiku and too busy to pay any attention to you. Besides, I’ll be satisfied if I just receive just a bit of your body.” He pressed his body closer to Yao’s.

Yao gave an involuntary squeak at Francis’ words as he tried to edge away from Francis. “I… I’m not sure Arthur would like that, aru,” he said nervously.

Francis sighed. “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur,” he said. “That’s who you ever talk about – Arthur this, Arthur that… Mon dieu! He’s a pervert, for goodness sake! Granted, I am more of a pervert, but still…” he added grudgingly. “Tell me, what’s so good about that friggin’ bastard?”

Yao shrugged nonchalantly. “He makes me happy,” he simply said. “I love him, aru.”

“Why don’t you be with me instead?” Francis suggested, waggling his eyebrows. “I can make you even happier.”

“No thanks, aru,” Yao replied in a deadpan. “I belong to him now, don’t you know?” he added with a cunning grin.

“No way!” Francis exclaimed. “How?”

Yao untucked his shirt and lifted it, exposing his stomach. Francis gawked at England’s St. George’s cross at the side of Yao’s stomach in pink scar tissue.

Francis exhaled in admiration. “Impressive,” he muttered. “So I guess I can’t stake my claim on you anymore, huh?”

“Afraid not, aru,” Yao said, his grin turning into a smug one, as he readjusted his shirt.

Francis looked thoughtful for a moment. “Do you think Kiku would be receptive towards my advances?”

Yao felt a brief protective sensation surge through his body at the mention of his little brother. “I don’t know,” he finally shrugged, casting an uneasy glance at Kiku. “You can try, aru.”

Francis winked at Yao and ambled over to where Arthur and Kiku were. Yao saw Francis shoo Arthur away and begin a conversation with Kiku.

Annoyed at being brushed off so easily and quickly, Arthur made his way to Yao’s side to be comforted.

Yao smiled sympathetically at Arthur’s defeated expression. “Don’t let Francis get to you,” he told his lover.

“That attention-seeking bastard… damn stupid frog,” Arthur mumbled as he took a seat next to Yao and pulled Yao onto his lap. He possessively wrapped his arms around Yao’s waist. “I suppose you showed him the mark? He’s now trying to make a move on Kiku.”

Yao nodded as he turned towards the Englishman. “I did, aru,” he replied. “I’m not so sure if I should be encouraging him making a move on Kiku, though…”

Arthur snorted. “Don’t worry – Kiku can take care of himself,” he said, gesturing to where Francis and Kiku were. “Look.” Kiku had just hurriedly left the room and Francis was chasing after him.

Yao shook his head.

“Now,” Arthur brought his face closer to Yao’s and cupped Yao’s chin. “Shall we make out while we’re still on a break?”

Yao couldn’t help but giggle at how straightforward Arthur was being. “I don’t mind at all, aru,” he replied, smiling slyly, before he succumbed to Arthur.


End file.
